


Stress Relief

by tobiyos



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Killing Game (Dangan Ronpa), Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Anal Sex, Bottom Naegi Makoto, Choking, Degradation, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, For reasons, M/M, Makoto in a skirt, Office Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rough Sex, Secretary Naegi Makoto, Top Togami Byakuya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:33:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29426043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobiyos/pseuds/tobiyos
Summary: Secretary is Makoto’s title when Byakuya hands him his paycheck, when Makoto relays his job to overbearing friends and nosy family. Makoto knows what Byakuya calls him when the doors close, and pretenses slip away.Stress toy.
Relationships: Naegi Makoto/Togami Byakuya
Comments: 9
Kudos: 128





	Stress Relief

**Author's Note:**

> More naegami porn, yes, yes, I know but I cannot get these idiots out of my head. I know I saw Byakuya ask Makoto to be his secretary and I immediately went 👀👀👀 because if Mr. Byakuya Togami asked ME to be his secretary I would be doing very little work. Anyway
> 
> Also I have literally only played 1.5 danganronpa games but I know at SOME point all of the characters work together or whatever but this is not that. This is pure no killing game, no tragedy, Byakuya is the wealthy boss of a company and everyone works for him.

When Byakuya asked if Makoto would be his secretary, Makoto thought his job would be plenty self-explanatory.

Sometimes it is. He does coffee runs and facilitates calls, he organizes Byakuya’s schedule and talks to the people he deems too unimportant to waste his time. It’s not easy money, perse, but it’s Makoto’s job, and he does it well.

But, with Byakuya, it only makes sense that Makoto’s duties may exceed those of other secretaries.

“Byakuya?” Makoto says softly, knocking on his boss’ office door. He can see all of the shutters on Byakuya’s window are closed, the glass opaque like Byakuya is sitting in the dark. This is one of the most obvious indicators that Byakuya is in a sour mood. “Can I come in?”

“If you must,” Byakuya says lowly, voice muffled through the door.

Makoto pushes through the door slowly, blinking to let his eyes adjust to the dark. And, yep. Byakuya’s definitely in a bad mood. “Got a headache?” Makoto asks, picking his way through the semi-dark. There’s still light coming in through the large window at the back of the wall, bright enough for Makoto to be able to see the way Byakuya’s eyebrows are pinched, the loose knot of his tie.

“I always have a headache,” Byakuya murmurs. “Come here.”

Makoto steps up to the side of Byakuya’s chair and feels his breath hitch, heartbeat fluttering as he waits. _Secretary_ is Makoto’s title when Byakuya hands him his paycheck, when Makoto relays his job to overbearing friends and nosy family. Makoto knows what Byakuya calls him when the doors close, and pretenses slip away.

_Stress toy_.

Byakuya’s chair whirrs as he turns, legs falling open as Makoto shuffles between his knees, hands uncurled at his side. “Hmm,” Byakuya hums, and Makoto jolts slightly when he feels fingertips ghost along the outside of his thighs. “I’m appreciative you’re properly in uniform today.”

Makoto snorts to himself. His _uniform_ is a too tight pencil skirt that hugs his hips and his waist entirely too snugly, that always bunches when Byakuya slides his hands further up his thighs, long fingers pressing into his skin. “It’s my job,” Makoto says breathlessly, voice catching when Byakuya squeezes his thighs gently.

“That’s because it’s all you’re good for,” Byakuya says lowly. Makoto shivers slightly, feeling Byakuya push up higher, higher—

“Are you wearing any underwear?”

“No,” Makoto breathes.

Byakuya hums. “Good.”

Another shivers wracks Makoto’s body again when Byakuya’s hands travel higher, yelping when he’s tugged impatiently closer by the back of his thighs. Byakuya’s hands are larger than Makoto’s even though his fingers are thinner, but he grabs a hold of Makoto’s small, pert ass and _squeezes_ , and Makoto’s face heats as he feels the meat of his ass spill through Byakuya’s fingers. Byakuya buries his nose in Makoto’s stomach with a sigh.

Its routine now, letting Byakuya knead at the soft parts of his body and press his face into Makoto’s stomach as the tension drains out of his shoulders, Byakuya’s breathing evening out into something easier than Makoto knows it was before he showed up. It’s easy to ignore his body’s response, the way his cock fills out as Byakuya nuzzles uncharacteristically at his stomach and bounces his ass in his hands.

“Better?” Makoto asks, when Byakuya eventually leans away. His hands haven’t left Makoto’s backside, but hes not particularly upset by it.

“I’ve certainly felt worse,” Byakuya grumbles. He sits back in his office chair with a sigh, leaning onto one arm as his eyes trace up Makoto’s body. “Let me see.”

Makoto nods, fisting his hands in the material of the skirt to drag it up his thighs until the material is bunches up around his hips, his already half hard cock freed.

“Not bad, Naegi,” Byakuya says under his breath, and Makoto makes a helpless, breathy little noise when Byakuya fingers trail down the shaft of his dick. “Hard already?”

“Y-you were touching me,” Makoto explains, even though he knows Byakuya isn’t listening. He’s pulling his glasses off with his free hand and curling the other around Makoto’s cock.

“That doesn’t make you seem any less desperate,” Byakuya says evenly, going to undo the buttons of Makoto’s shirt until the skin on his stomach is bared to seeking eyes. “Though I suppose if a dog only knows one trick...”

Makoto tampers down the urge to roll his eyes and lets Byakuya kiss at the soft skin of his stomach to his heart’s content, carefully avoiding stimulating Makoto’s cock.

“Have you been working out?” Byakuya asks his stomach.

Makoto presses a hand to the back of Byakuya’s neck under his hair. “A little bit. You did factor in that personal trainer for my expenses, so I figure I should at least get your money’s worth.”

“Well, do it less,” Byakuya huffs. Makoto feels his fingers cup his ass. “You’re getting too firm.”

“You like me better soft?” Makoto asks, unable to fully hide his laugh. He can feel Byakuya’s scowl against his skin.

“Don’t be stupid,” he snaps, and Makoto pets soothingly over the nape of his neck. His voice is softer, less harsh when he adds, “...of course I do.”

When Byakuya pulls away, Makoto follows his hands, climbing clumsily into his lap as Byakuya wraps arms around his waist and pulls them flush together.

“Can I kiss you?” Makoto asks quietly, watching Byakuya’s face to gauge his reaction. Sometimes it’s a firm no, and Byakuya just wants him to bend over the desk and let himself be groped to Byakuya’s content, but today he gives a short nod, and sighs as Makoto leans in, squirming slightly when Byakuya squeezes at his waist. Makoto kisses him slowly, consumingly, letting Byakuya move him as he sees fit but keeping the rhythm of their lips pressing and parting as glacial as it can be. He slides his arms around Byakuya’s neck and lets him lick into his mouth, welcoming the onset of sensation that has his toes curling, his brain going fuzzy as he shifts on his knees and Byakuya keeps massaging at his backside.

“Byakuya,” Makoto breathes, pulling away to catch his breath. He feels Byakuya slide a finger down from the base of his spine against his hole.

“You’re such a good little stress reliever,” Byakuya says into the side of his neck, a none too gentle bite coming onto Makoto’s skin. It makes him whine quietly, rocking back into Byakuya’s hand. He can feel pleasure pooling in his stomach, molten and needy, even though he knows Byakuya hasn’t even _thought_ about his cock since he pulled his skirt up.

“Be quiet,” Byakuya says lowly, neatly proving Makoto’s assumption, and Makoto presses the palm of his hand to his mouth to cover any of the more embarrassing sounds he’s making.

Byakuya’s hands slide up his back and back down towards his waist, over his hips and down his thighs. His hands feel like fire everywhere they go, and Makoto can’t help the way he pants and squirms in his lap, knees digging into the plush and expensive material of the chair.

Byakuya is typically quiet in his ministrations, but a short rock of Makoto’s hips makes him groan softly, the sound sending Makoto reeling as he clutches Byakuya’s neck tighter.

“You’re dripping,” Byakuya says, and Makoto feels a hand wrap around his cock again. Makoto whimpers as Byakuya smears precum around the head of his cock, and then down his shaft, stopping to press a deep bruise into his collarbone. “Needy little slut.”

“Byaku—“ Makoto starts, cut off when he feels fingers pressing at his tongue.

“Did I say you could talk yet?” Byakuya coos. Makoto blinks big, shiny eyes down at him, and then shakes his head.

“I know you’re not stupid,” Byakuya says on a sneer, and Makoto shudders out a long moan when his hand twists around his cock again. “Be a good little stress toy and keep your mouth shut.”

Makoto nods again, parting his lips slightly as Byakuya slides fingers further down his throat.

“You’re making a mess all on my suit,” Byakuya complains quietly, petting over Makoto’s tongue and expertly avoiding his gag reflex. “I’ve barely even done anything to you.”

Ah, but that’s the joy in it for him, isn’t it? Byakuya spends forever playing with Makoto’s body as he sees fit until he’s desperate and panting, aching for Byakuya’s hands or his mouth or his cock, and then it’s more than easy to let himself get lost to whatever Byakuya wants to give him, whatever he wants Makoto to take. And Makoto is always happy with what he’s getting, because all he cares is that it’s Byakuya doing it to him.

“Get up on the desk,” Byakuya says, pushing at Makoto until he steps back onto shaky legs. “Spread your legs.”

Makoto does as instructed, ignoring his throbbing cock to hop onto the desk with spread legs, carefully avoiding the papers stacked on either side of him. They’re mirroring each other now, Makoto in his bunched up skirt with his bare ass on Byakuya’s desk, Byakuya impassive in his office chair, hard from what Makoto can see. Byakuya looks pleased, sliding his hands up Makoto’s thighs with the occasional squeeze, pause, squeeze, pause.

His eyes look cloudy, distracted and far away, and Makoto has worked with him long enough to know that it’s the look Byakuya gets when he sinks too far in his own head, when he gets lost in deadlines and too full schedules. Makoto puts a hand on his cheek and tilts his face up. “Are you still with me, sir?”

“Yes,” Byakuya says breathily, pupils large and swollen. “I’m trying to decide if I’m going to fuck you or not.”

“I’d like you to,” Makoto says with a smile.

“I don’t care what you want.”

Another smiles, another pet of his thumb over Byakuya’s sharp cheekbone. “I know.”

Byakuya puts a hand on Makoto’s chest and stands slowly, and Makoto goes easily, legs coming up onto the desk as Byakuya pushes him down onto his back.

“Kiss me?” Makoto asks again, a hand going out to wind gently in Byakuya tie. Byakuya himself is too distracted to notice it, leaning down to slot their mouths together, and Makoto moans quietly, sliding hands up Byakuya’s shirt. He feels a hand on his thigh, and then at his ass, Byakuya’s fingers circling his hole gently. Makoto shivers, toes curling as he arches his back and tries to pull Byakuya closer, so preoccupied with his own pleasure that he barely registers the sound of Byakuya’s phone ringing.

“Damn it,” Byakuya pants, hand slapping around on the desk for the handheld Makoto knows Byakuya keeps reserved for work and work alone. One glance at the caller ID and Byakuya is huffing, standing back up to splay a hand possessively on Makoto’s stomach. It makes him shiver, but he doesn’t say anything, holding still and quiet while Byakuya takes his call.

“What is it?” he says tiredly, fingertips just skimming down Makoto’s skin. Makoto takes the reprieve to sit up on his elbows and try to shake some of the hair out of his face, even as his leg twitches when Byakuya digs his nails into Makoto’s hipbone. “No, no, one of my assistants was supposed to send the reports over... How should I know if she did her job or not? If I’m _paying_ her, she damn well should have.”

Makoto makes a small noise when Byakuya forgoes touching his cock at all to slide open one of his desk drawers— _the_ desk drawer in Makoto’s mind, the one with all the toys and supplies Byakuya keeps just for times like these—to pull out the small, almost empty bottle of lube that lives for the office. Makoto tells himself to put buying more lube on a reminder for a shopping list before Byakuya snaps at him about it.

“Walk you through it? You’re not incompetent, Kyou—well any errors that have been made are for you to catch, then!” Makoto drops his head back when Byakuya squeezes at his thigh again, and presses his phone between his shoulder and his jaw to pop the top of the lube bottle. “Fine. _Fine_ ,” Byakuya snaps. “Give me a moment.”

Makoto is flushed and breathing hard as Byakuya pulls the phone away from his face to presses one of Makoto’s legs back into a near split. “Keep your voice down,” is all the warning Makoto gets before Byakuya is pouring lube messily over his cock and pressing it to Makoto’s hole.

He prepped this morning, the way he always does, but that doesn’t stop Makoto seizing up slightly in panic, voice trembling as a helpless noise slips past his lips, but Byakuya shoots him a glare and presses the phone back to his face, walking Kyouko through the proper version of the report.

He’s not pushing inside yet, but Makoto is struggling to stay quiet all the same, taking big, laborious breaths as Byakuya starts to push in so gently enough that Makoto can barely feel any pain aside from the stretch.

Just as quickly as he’d started, Byakuya stops, sliding his cock away and leaving Makoto cold and shaking, arms winding underneath his knees to keep his legs open. Byakuya gives him an appreciative look as he keeps talking, pressing the head of his cock in slowly again.

With his fingers, they could have this out of the way in no time, but Makoto knows that nothing with Byakuya can ever be _easy_. He rocks into Makoto slowly, feeding him fractions of centimeters of his cock before pulling out, only to give him more and more on every push inside.

When the head of Byakuya’s cock finally slides past his rim, Makoto whimpers quietly, and Byakuya slides him another unimpressed look as he switches hands holding the phone to keep pressing inside.

“Hurts,” Makoto wheezes quietly, as his body starts to feel fuller and fuller. It’s too much, too fast, and Makoto can feel his breath coming too fast, sweat sliding down his chest.

When Byakuya raises his eyebrow, Makoto reads into it clearly, even trembling and keeping almost all of his focus on staying quiet. _Do you want me to stop?_

Makoto thinks about it for a moment, before he shakes his head, pulling a lip between his teeth as Byakuya starts to sink in again, stopping only to take a half shaky breath before he gets started on long sentences.

He bottoms out, and Makoto lets go of a deep, satisfied sigh, catching the groan that threatens to break through his lips when Byakuya grinds his hips in a circle. He feels full, and used, and there’s probably a heady flush crawling up his neck and down his chest.

“That was from the fifteenth,” Byakuya says evenly, looking no worse for wear. Makoto, on the other hand, yelps when he pulls his hips back and snaps them forward again, jostling Makoto’s ass against the table. “What? No, there’s no one else in my office. You’re probably hearing my drawers move.” Makoto blinks his eyes open to Byakuya glaring again, and he gives a weak nod, hopping he really _can_ manage to stay quiet this time.

“Should I continue or—“ Byakuya says, and Makoto shudders as his hips snap again, a hand coming to rest on Makoto’s hip. “—have you finally acquired the necessary braincells to do your job?”

Makoto gasps silently, feeling Byakuya fill him from the inside out as they slide together, pace merciless even as Byakuya continues talking to Kyouko.

Makoto slaps both of his hands over his mouth when Byakuya grabs his hips and grinds straight into his prostate like he was purposely avoiding it before, and Makoto wants to _wail,_ but Byakuya is still speaking in that even, unaffected tone, and the thought of Kyoko hearing him moan and cry over Byakuya’s otherwise impassive tone is pushing Makoto closer and closer to climax.

“No, that meeting was on the twenty-first,” Byakuya says, at the same time he picks back up the pace that leaves Makoto wanton and breathless, and this time he really can’t help his quiet mewl.

He opens his mouth, ready to offer another apology, to beg that Byakuya keep going, but before he can even do that there’s familiar hands on his throat, long and slender, and Makoto gasps as Byakuya pushes hard enough to cut his air supply off, and Makoto is almost instantly lightheaded with pleasure.

“Byakuya,” Makoto wheezes, pulling his legs back further, and Byakuya makes a frustrated noise on the line, perching the phone on his shoulder again so he can put one hand on Makoto’s throat and the other on his hip, and hold Makoto still as he fucks him so hard the desk shakes.

“I remember it being on twenty-first because I had to call for lunch, and the sushi place down the street does the group specials on Tuesdays.” Byakuya still sounds woefully unaffected, even as Makoto’s head swims, high, breathy sounds pouring out of him every time Byakuya pistons against his prostate. It’s a struggle to even keep his tongue in his mouth, and Byakuya makes a face at the spit smearing on Makoto’s mouth that has precum spilling onto Makoto’s stomach.

“Well, then,” Byakuya grunts, and Makoto finally hears the first shake to his voice. “there’s your error.”

Makoto’s vision starts to go dark at the edges, and he rolls his eyes back with a keen, Byakuya releasing his throat long enough for Makoto to suck in a few grateful breaths of air and form the start of a whimper before there’s a hand back on his throat.

“Are we—done?” Byakuya asks, gasping quietly as he leans further over Makoto’s body. Makoto tries to sit up and catch his mouth but he’s too far away for anything other than a brush of their lips, light and electric. “I have other t-things I’d like to get done.” Makoto opens his mouth to gasp and feels Byakuya’s tongue slide over his for a moment. “Yes, yes, you have a horrible day too.”

Makoto gasps when Byakuya lets his throat go, and then whines when their mouths crash together, letting go of his legs to claw at Byakuya’s back through his shirt and hold desperately to his shoulders as he fucks Makoto against the table.

“ _Nnhh_ —Byakuya, Byakuya,” Makoto pants, head tipping back. “I can’t... _fuck_ , I can’t come like this, touch me, touch me please—“

“I don’t know where you got the idea that I _expect_ you to come,” Byakuya says, and Makoto groans as he pulls out, and then manhandles Makoto onto his stomach, toes just barely touching the floor as he slides back inside. “I _told_ you,” Byakuya growls, a hand fisting in the back of Makoto’s hair as he pulls his spine tight. “You’re my quiet _fucking_ stress toy.” Makoto feels his toes curl into the floor as Byakuya pulls his hair _harder_ , arching his head far back enough that Makoto can feel his lips on the shell of his ear. “You make such a good cocksleeve,” he groans, and Makoto curls his fingers against the desk as Byakuya fucks him rougher somehow, almost punishingly, until all Makoto can do is hiccup out breaths and _take it,_ gasping, “ _ah, ah, ah—Byakuya!_ ”

“That’s it,” Byakuya murmurs against his skin. “ _Fuck,_ that’s it. Take it, Naegi, fucking cry for it—“

Makoto is so close its painful, even with his cock trapped under the desk and hanging pitifully as Byakuya pays it no attention or mind. Makoto’s brain feels like syrup, but he meets each of Byakuya’s thrusts with a twitch of his hips and feels thankful that he still has the memory of Byakuya’s hands on his throat, the delirious way he’d kissed him after he’d gotten off of the phone to push him closer, closer, _closer_ —

He gasps when Byakuya suddenly pulls out with a hiss, and then cries as Byakuya works his hand frantically over his cock, fingers pulling Makoto’s ass cheeks apart, and then, just barely, the head of Byakuya’s cock resting against Makoto’s rim. Makoto shouts, and presses his cheek to the table as he hears Byakuya come with a groan, his release spurting into Makoto’s twitching hole, and then across the back of his thighs as Byakuya pulls away, finishing himself off with a sigh.

“Thank you, Naegi,” Byakuya breathes, and Makoto shakes harder as Byakuya presses his hands to his hips, and then between his thighs, making Makoto’s come sticky on his skin. “I do feel better now.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Makoto pants, willing himself not to reach down and come across Byakuya’s desk. They’ve got a rule, he knows, and if he can’t come on Byakuya’s cock, then he can’t come at all. He sighs. “I’m going to go arrange your meetings for the rest of the day,” he mumbles, reaching behind himself to gather Byakuya’s come up in his palm and push it off into one of the tissues at the edge of the desk. Byakuya hums as Makoto presses a kiss to his cheek, and works his skirt back down over his ass, even as he feels come continue to leak down onto his thighs. It’ll be uncomfortable to work with, but it’s not impossible. Makoto has done it before. “See you at home?”

“See you at home,” Byakuya mutters. “After I’ve murdered Kirigiri.”

“Don’t be late,” Makoto says, heading for the door. “It’s your turn to make dinner.”

“Leave my office, Makoto.”

Makoto snickers and shuts the door behind him quietly, before he takes a deep breath.

Back to work, he supposes. The day’s far from over.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This was kind of a blast to write after my last two Naegami things, so I'll probably make more mindless smut for these guys. Byakuya is too fun for me to write. If you wanna yell at me about dr I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/tobi_yos) , and have a lovely day!


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